Circus: Fantasy Under the Big Top by Ekaterina Sedia Page A

Madam Morrell. We are representatives. We have been in your establishment for a few weeks.”
    “Where are you from?”
    The alien walked around her office. He looked almost human, but not quite. There was an indefinable essence of strangeness cast over his entire countenance. “We inhabit another galaxy, Madam Morrell.”
    Another galaxy! Earth Central had dismissed the possibility of sentient alien life in the universe.
    The alien continued to traverse her office. Jinkers’ mind was racing. He didn’t seem belligerent. Jinkers was riding along her instincts. They had always served her well.
    “We are impressed that you identified us so quickly.” The alien picked up a handful of Horatio’s kibble. “There are always a few inconsistencies, no matter how hard we try to blend in. I’m afraid we’ve caused some false readings in your data. Were you expecting us? We were under the belief that your species had dismissed alternative sentience as an implausible possibility.”
    “This is my circus,” said Jinkers. “I know what goes on here. Why are you here?”
    “We do the same as you, Madam. We observe. What did you say, earlier?” he smiled, an unfortunate occurrence revealing a mouthful of teeth. “Who watches the watchers? Well, we do.” He held out his hand to Horatio, who stretched his neck out and began to nibble the food in the alien’s outstretched palm. “And Madam Morrell, to extend your metaphor: I have a free pass to an outstanding show.”
    “A universal spectacular?”asked Jinkers
    “Indeed. Madam Morrell, welcome to the greatest show of your life: the Universal Federations of Sentience.” Horatio continued to feed. “We thought that you might like to be the one to announce the news to the rest of humanity.”
    The universe just got interesting, thought Jinkers, as she put the call through to Earth Central.

Vanishing Act
    E. Catherine Tobler
    Jackson’s Unreal Circus and Mobile Marmalade picked her up a day outside Denver. Jackson wouldn’t stop for a cow on the tracks, but he stopped for this little thing, with her pale hair and paler eyes. Brought the entire train to a stop to scoop her from the tracks with his long arms.
    She huddled against his chest, her small body nearly folded in on itself, and we all watched, in confusion and fascination both. The long hem of her dirty shift caught the cow catcher and the remains of said beast.
    She was none of my concern, but Jackson placed her in my car and made her just that. He laid her down in the corner, in my favorite chair, my only chair. She looked all the more pale against the blue and gold stripes. Their brilliance had long since faded, but looked new against her washed out skin. Her bare feet were crusted with dirt and muck and I didn’t look much beyond that.
    I was working with the quarters when she began to wail, rolling them across my fingers before trying to turn them into nickels. The steam whistle crowed as we crossed the state line, Colorado into New Mexico, and she came alive as though submerged in hot water.
    The quarters tumbled off my fingers, onto the floor where they lay as she shrieked, curled her hands over her ears, and moaned. Her face was creased with pain; for a moment, she looked like she’d been raked with hot metal.
    After listening to her, I wanted to do the same; curl into a ball and moan. Instead, I went to her. Crouched before the chair and tried to get her to lower her hands.
    First thing I noticed was that her hands didn’t feel like hands. She was soft, as though her bones hadn’t yet firmed up. A baby in the guise of a ten year old. Second thing I noticed was the way she went quiet when I touched her.
    I thought she would twist away, scream, holler, anything but what she did, which was melt into me, against my chest. Her soft hand curled its way into my shirtfront, her thumb working over the nearest dirty button.
    “Stop that.”
    Tried to push her out of my arms, I did, but she wouldn’t go. She